When the aides approached the girl’s bed
They saw a chore
A body to be turned and cleaned
So they did it, with rough washcloth
And firm hands that did not match what was inside
Their patient:
Could they not imagine the pelvis split in four, sacrum in two,
Ribs broken and lung’s puncture draining- all the cracks-
They chatted to each other over her body in the bed,
moving quickly
Avoiding hearing her sharp breath and seeing her
Imploring eyes
When the old woman moved into her new (and last) place
Nursing home, shared room,
And surprise! that very day was her scheduled bath day
So the aide told the daughter goodbye, took the old woman; abrupt, not sharing names, refusing to notice the tremble,
Or imagine how weak she felt, or scared,
And the old woman half undressed in the doorway
did not say goodbye to her daughter but just watched her leave
With silent helpless eyes
Imagination Empathy
What happens when it is missing?
If you can imagine what is inside another, a
Gentleness
Must surely come to you and
Guide all your actions.
Image credit: Yevgen Rychko
Pencilonmybackporch 
The need for compassion and empathy is so needed and so missing. What a great way to share what is missing in so many places these days. Thanks for the verse! Well done!
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Fran,
This is heartbreaking and the embodiment of my deepest fears. 😔
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You’ve crafted such an important, touching poem. My older sister is in a nursing home with dementia. Recently, I witnessed an experience that scared me and took my breath away. An aide screamed out at a patient in the middle of lunch. Shocking. If there’s ever a place for compassion, a nursing home is it. You should sent this to various nursing homes as a reminder.
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What a poignant portrait you have crafted. An important reminder to focus on the human, not the job.
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Erika says it well – you are reminding us to see the human, not the job.
Already having met your daughter and your mother through your writing, your writing here means so much more to me.
Thanks for sharing!
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Fran, wow, this is so heartbreaking. I’m sorry for the woman in pain, and the poor treatment so many elders get. I agree with Rita, I hope you will submit this to either nursing homes or a related journal.
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Fran – your poem is so powerful. It expresses this familiar yet not-spoken about experience. I have witnessed this too with my in-laws in nursing homes. I think the nurses and aides just become numb in order to survive long hours of hard and heartbreaking work. I had thought about becoming a nurse instead of a teacher. I spent one year at sixteen as a candy striper on a geriatric ward. I cried every time I went to the hospital. I realized I was not strong enough to be a nurse. I was strong enough to be a teacher though. Definitely I agree with the others – find a place to publish this poem.
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I can’t “like” this—it seems such a lame response to such a profoundly moving pair of images that culminate in the most important of realizations: empathy, connecting with our best human selves is our highest calling. I think about the caregivers who have become separated from the humans they are entrusted to care for. I know it cannot be easy to nurture oneself as one does this critical work, but I also know that many manage to do so. Those “imploring eyes” might easily fill with light if there were empathy.
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